


Also Prey

by tisfan



Series: Imagine Tony and Bucky 2016/2017 [15]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cat Tony, M/M, Shifter AU, Wolf Bucky, be very very quiet, cats and dogs living together, sam is a birdbrain, we're hunting rabbits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-10-03 00:25:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10231409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: AnthroAU Imagine wolf!Bucky trying to court cat!Tony and Tony not understanding at first. Bucky tries really hard, bringing him gifts and food and just being there. Tony thinks it's nice but never says anything because Cat. Bucky finds a dead bird on his pillow and is discouraged. Tony is dismayed when Bucky backs off. He thought they were courting but maybe he overstepped. The team explain that it's basically the same thing he's doing, just... grosser. Bucky doesn't understand but gets kisses.





	1. Chapter 1

“We’re not slaves to our biology, Sam,” Steve said. He wasn’t looking at Sam, instead he was scanning the park. How was it that a four-foot-at-the-shoulder-with-a-metal-front-paw fucking timber wolf could hide. In a park? In New York City? How was that even a thing.

“ _You_ might not be,” Sam said, his voice completely registering doubt and sarcasm, “but Tony is the most cat-like cat I’ve ever met. He comes into the room just so he can prove how much he’s ignoring you.”

“You’re just sore ‘cause he pounces on you,” Steve pointed out. Where the hell was Bucky? He shouldn’t worry so much, but the last time he took eyes off his best friend, Bucky had been dead for seventy years.

“Well, it’s a lot more annoying when he does it in his wyr form,” Sam said. “I still got claw marks on my shoulder.”

Steve blinked at that. “I would think it was more annoying in his human form.” Steve still found it weird to be claimed, the way Tony did it, rubbing up against his teammates from time to time. _Mine mine mine. Except for that bit over there. You can have that._

“Doesn’t matter,” Sam said, brushing it off. “Point is, Tony’s feline, and Barnes is a _wolf_. It’s never gonna work out, and you need to tell him before Tony starts asserting himself and your friend ends up without a roof over his head.”

“Don’t be such a speciest, Sam,” Steve said. “After all, I’m feline, and you’re a bird.”

“Don’t give me that. I know what you were before Project Rebirth,” Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re more avian than you like to admit.”

“Still am,” Steve said. Project Rebirth had done some interesting things to him, given him a much larger human form, and transformed his wyr from the scrawny little aggressive chickenhawk that he’d been born with into a cross between his and Stark’s DNA, making him into the first gryphon in living memory. Half lion, half eagle, his wyr was nearly the size of an SUV. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to pounce on your ass, from time to time, myself.”

Sam uttered a completely charmed and startled laugh. “You need to up your flirt game, man,” he said. “I don’t even know what to do with that.”

Steve ducked his chin. “That’s not what you said last night.”

Sam shoved him, which of course did absolutely nothing. Steve was a rock, even when he didn’t have his feet set.

“They’ll work it out,” Steve said. “Or they won’t. But I’m not gonna take Bucky aside and tell him that he can’t have Tony because of some ridiculously outdated notion of cats-and-dogs.”

Sam threw up his hands. “Cats and dogs, living together. Mass hysteria.”

“All right, all right, I get the point,” Steve said. “I’ll… mention it. Or something.”

***

Tony took the whole idea of catnaps to their ultimate expression. Mr I can fall asleep anywhere as long as it’s not bed was on the top of the fridge again. Which was all well and good for him, except he always snapped awake as soon as Bucky came into the room.

Bucky’d been trying, he’d really been trying to not be in his wyr whenever he was in the Tower. Four hundred pounds of timber wolf was intimidating to just about everyone, but when Bucky could have swallowed Tony by yawning, well, let’s just say that Bucky had been pretty depressed, watching Tony flee the room, his fur sticking up in every direction.

Even puffed up to full size, Tony’s wyr probably only weighed in at twelve pounds or so. Large for a housecat, but he was definitely a second-tier predator.

Tony lazily opened one golden eye as Bucky stopped dead in the kitchen door, the tip of his tail twitching. That flat, you-blink-first stare was disconcerting as hell and made Bucky want to check when he’d last taken a shower. He nervously ran a hand through his hair

“Hey, Tony,” Bucky said. He blinked, once, twice. Steve had told him that would help, a bit, even if he didn’t understand it. Tony’s eye slid closed again. “I just… was hungry.”

Tony made a dismissive sort of tail flick, stood up, turned aaaaall the way around in a circle and curled up again, facing the other direction.

Right.

Bucky sighed. Rather than opening the fridge and digging through it for something red and raw that would satisfy his inner wolf, he grabbed bread and some of those nasty nut spreads that the avians in the building liked so much. It was protein, it would fill him up even if he’d probably have to go hunting again. At this rate, he was going to have to drop in on a feral pack and see if he could join in on an elk run or something.

Tony stretched, arching his back. He licked one black-furred paw and wiped his face. His wyr form was tiny, adorable, with almost solid-black silky fur, save for the white patch at his chest and Bucky had the worst time with temptation. He wanted to pick Tony up and cuddle him, which Bucky was almost positive would not be well-received _at all_. Cats were like liquid; Tony finished his stretch and slid off the top of the fridge, landing lightly on all fours, somehow going through the shift in the half-second it took for gravity to catch him.

Tony’s eyes, golden-brown now, rather than luminous, flicked from the sandwich to Bucky’s face and then he shrugged. If Tony still had a tail in his human form, Bucky would have imagined the tip flicking as he strode out of the room. Bucky sighed. Once again, he’d managed to offend, just by _existing_.

Maybe Steve was right. Cats and dogs just didn’t get along. Depressing.

So was his lunch. He stared down at the utterly unappetizing sandwich. Hydra had fed him things like that, bean pastes and nutritional shakes that had no tang of blood, no hint of having ever once been alive.

***

Bucky stared down at his bed.

The door had been locked when he left; he’d had to use his thumb to open the door, same as always. No one else was allowed in his personal space.

And yet…

Bucky looked around, over each shoulder as if he was being watched. He never quite could get over the feeling that Hydra was just waiting. Nothing. Even in his human form, his nose was keen; he didn’t smell anything that wasn’t as usual. The various scents of the other Avengers who lived in the Tower… and now that he was concentrating. Blood. Meat, raw and still warm.

Bucky let his wolf take him, shaking into his fur and fangs. His spine rippled into the new form, a dark fire that burned and soothed. His head dropped, lengthened. Hips snapped and formed. His tail sprouted, claws popped out of fingers that curled up into paws. He finished the shift, sat down on his haunches, panting. With his mouth open, smell was even greater than normal and he was salivating at the taste of the air.

He checked his six again, then pounced.

The freshly dead bird disappeared in three bites.

God. _Meat_.

He hiccupped, spitting out a few feathers.

Usually after a meal, Bucky liked to curl up and sleep, but Steve was supposed to come by later and they were going to all go out to the movies, and Steve would probably be offended if he found evidence of dead bird in Bucky’s room, despite the fact that Steve hadn’t been avian for decades, and Bucky had to eat, right? Whatever.

He shifted back, feeling pleasantly full and sleepy. He dumped what was left of the carcass in his trash and changed the sheets.

Bucky bent over the fabric, pulled it right up to his nose. Mostly what he could smell was blood, but under it… cat.

Tony?

***

“Oh, my god, _no licking_ , Bucky, no,” Tony exclaimed, shoving at the giant wolf that suddenly bounded into his workshop. He pointed to a spot on the floor just in front of him, rather desperate. “Sit!”

Bucky issued a short whine from the back of his throat and then sat the fuck down like he was a damn golden retriever or something, complete with the little paw twitches that indicated he wanted to move around but was too well-behaved to do so.

It _should not_ have been charming. Really. Someone, somewhere, was going to take away Tony’s license to cat.

Tony heaved a great sigh, doing his best to look utterly exasperated and not like this was cute, because it was not.

Bucky whined again and dropped something, which landed on the floor with a clatter.

“We’re at fetch, now?” Tony rolled his eyes and prodded at the thing with the toe of one designer shoe. At least he’d put it in a ziplock before bringing it downstairs as some sort of concession to Tony not being thrilled, at all, about dog drool. He blinked, looked at the toy inside the bag, and blinked again. “Where did you get this?”

Bucky wagged his tail a few times, then shifted. He was a slow shifter, to the point where Tony could see the hair sinking back on his face, letting the skin show thought, until the gray and black furred wolf was gone and the man remained. He twisted his metal arm once as the quicksilver molded and reshaped itself. He probably had to shift slow, just to keep the limb from snapping off as it transitioned from one shape to the other. Could have been worse.

Tony pressed his hand to the spot where his arc-reactor had once been. The whole time he’d had the arc-reactor inside his chest, he’d been unable to shift at all; the palladium couldn’t transition with him and it would have killed him to try the shift. Four years of being without the bliss and ease of living in his natural skin and it nearly killed him anyway.

“Ebay,” Bucky said, and Tony blinked back to the conversation.

“This is a limited edition Robby the Robot,” Tony said, taking the slightly worn box out of the bag. “Like new.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “I missed that movie, first time round. Caught it on late night Syfy last weekend. Thought it might be somethin’ you were into.” He shrugged, trying to be indifferent, but it wasn’t a good look on him. He was too excitable for that and eventually leaned over against Tony’s shoulder to read the back of the box with him.

“Thank you,” Tony said, honestly, touched. “What did I do to deserve presents?”

Bucky tilted his head. Tony was a bad person, he was, because whenever a canine did that around him, he became unbelievably tempted to find a gramophone to shove under their ear. “You’ve been leavin’ me birds, haven’t you?”

Tony shifted his gaze to one side. “You don’t eat right,” he said. “I was worried that Hydra might have interfered with your ability to hunt.”

“Wolves are pack hunters,” Bucky said, soft. “I don’t have anyone to hunt _with_ , anymore.”

“You live with the apexiest apex hunter in existence,” Tony pointed out. “Doesn’t Steve go hunting all the time?”

“I am not going to sit on Steve’s back while he flies off to some forest in the middle of Pennsylvania to eat half a herd of deer,” Bucky said. “I like keepin’ my feet on the ground.”

Tony finally looked over at Bucky, met those gray eyes. He blinked, slow and easy. “Well, if that dislike of travel doesn’t apply to cars, I know where there’s a really nice rabbit warren, just over the bridge on the far side of Jersey. I can chase rabbits right to you.”

Bucky lit up like someone had offered a kid an ice cream. “Oh, really? Would you, that would be swell!”

“No licking!” Tony took a hasty step backward, then, as Bucky’s face fell, he put a hand on the man’s arm. “Kissing is okay. I do that.”

  
So, the kiss was a little wetter and somewhat more enthusiastic than the ones he was used to, but Tony could work with it. Yeah. This could be good.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with art from the wonderful [Monobuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/monobuu/pseuds/monobuu)


	2. Truth About Cats and Dogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a cat-shifter and a wolf-shifter, Tony and Bucky have more in common than people might think...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For liljeconvallaria:
> 
> Hi. Requesting a prequel to the shifter AU you wrote for the ImagineTonyAndBucky. TonyAngst, for the time he was unable to shift. (And maybe the joy when he could shift again?) The angst part is most important.

It wasn’t natural, not shifting.

It was more than just something that could be done, it was a biological necessity. Maybe not as core as eating, breathing… but more on a line with mating. You didn’t have to do it to live, but you had to do it to be _alive_.

Maybe.

Tony didn’t know.

What he did know was that two years after he’d had an electromagnet installed in his chest, that he’d eventually miniaturized the arc-reactor technology, and he’d become something else. Something more? (Something less, his traitor-mind whispered)

He wasn’t a shifter. Not anymore.

He couldn’t _shift_. He could not. The arc-reactor, the electromagnet, everything that kept him alive, kept his heart from chewing itself to death on shrapnel, wouldn’t shrink to an appropriate size. He’d kill himself; rupture his own ribs, if he tried it.

Tony wasn’t wyr anymore. He couldn’t change.

It ate at him. Chewed little holes in everything that he was. His self-esteem. His desires. His hunger. Everything that had made him more than human…

He tried not to think about it. He was Tony _fucking_ Stark. More than just a housecat. He was one of the smartest people in the world, he could… find something else to do that wasn’t taking a nap in a dark corner. Wasn’t sitting in a cardboard box and relaxing. Wasn’t…

 _Fuck_.

He built suits. He planned missions. He…

Nearly let himself die.

Nearly killed himself.

Because he couldn’t stand not sitting in a goddamn box, and wasn’t that the most pathetic thing he could possibly imagine?

How would anyone ever understand?

Even other wyr…

Well, none of them ever understood.

Had anyone ever gone so long without a shift? Even Pepper, who was a lovely and sleek gazelle in her wyr form and avoided shifting as much as possible, because too many predator wyr took advantage, chased her around whenever the musky scent of her flesh was in the air. She was graceful and quivering, and an unholy temptation to every predator that she’d ever known. But even Pepper had been known to spend an afternoon at a certified park, allowed to graze and reestablish her bond to the Wyld.

Tony… couldn’t shift.

And he hated it.

Every second of it.

He tried a few things, to get back in touch with his wyld, with the special bond he had to the earth and the animal spirits. He put together in his workshop a larger, sturdier version of a cardboard box, tried to find what it was about those confining walls, the cool material that allowed airflow all the way around him, where he could hide, where he could be safe. Give him shelter and security, yet still allowing a quick escape.

It didn’t help.

There was something unnatural about not shifting.

***

There was something unnatural about spending all of one’s time shifted.

Bucky had forgotten what it was like, not to be an animal. It carried over, even on the few occasions that they allowed him up on two legs. Hydra kept him wolf, _feral_ , the whole time. He’d forgotten the ways of men, the ways of language, and manners and thinking. He was nothing but hunger, nothing but pain, sensation.

He knew the taste of blood in his mouth, knew the icy tundra under his paws. He knew the scent of prey in his nostrils, could sense the heartbeats of a hundred tiny creatures below the snow.

Even when he was a man, on two legs, he was a beast.

He’d forgotten what it was like to be a man.

All he knew was hunger.

All he knew was pain.

There were periods of less pain, of less hunger. When he was almost warm and comfortable in his cage.

It took time, but eventually, there was little he would not do for his masters to be in less pain.

He defended them.

He fought for them.

Hunted for them.

Killed for them.

He knew he’d once been something more.

Something better.

But that wasn’t true anymore.

There was nothing he could do about it.

And as a beast, he didn’t have to think on it, not too much. The longer it went on, the less he was able to think. The less he was able to remember.

The less…

Less…

***

Steve slipped into the kitchen. It was dark and his stomach was rumbling. Three in the morning was nut-spread time; being part raptor, part feline, all wyr… it felt like he had three stomachs all the time and they all needed to be fed. Stark Tower had a standing order for three cases of nut spreads every month, and toward the end of the month, Steve would eye the remaining jars dubiously, wondering if they would last.

His personal favorite was the cashew butter. He often mixed it up in a bowl with rolled oats, raisins, other dried fruits, microwaved it just a little to get that melty texture, and ate the whole thing with a spoon. Sam said he was gross, but what did Sam know about it?

He crossed the living room with his snack -- he was too hungry to wait to mix things and had just grabbed the jar of cashew butter and a spoon -- when he caught the gleam of eyes in the darkness.

Tony -- in his cat form -- blinked at him sleepily as Steve came into the room. It took a moment, and then Steve could pick out Bucky in the darkness as well. He’d… done something… that made his scent considerably harder to notice, especially when he was human. Tony was curled up, chin resting on Bucky’s knee, just watching.

“Hey,” Steve said, quiet. “Didn’t know you two were awake.” There was no point in being quiet, really; no one from the other floors would hear them, except possibly the Hulk. Bruce was evasive on how sharp his senses were when he was in his wyr form. Not like there were many other dragons, or a lot of research on them.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Bucky said. His fingers drummed across Tony’s head, tugged an ear, and then continued down the smaller animal’s back. Tony’s resulting purr could have shaken the walls if he’d been much larger. “Bad dreams.”

“Both of you?”

Bucky shrugged one shoulder. Tony rolled over in Bucky’s lap, displaying his belly, and at the same time, a flash of claw. Feeling playful, then, and not overly concerned about nightmares.

“The best thing about nightmares is waking up and realizing it’s over,” Bucky said. He stroked gently down Tony’s exposed belly, and the cat decided not to become a collection of pointy bits, purring and slitting his eyes at his mate.

“It’s over now,” Steve agreed.

Steve shook his head; he barely understood the things that both of them had gone through. He was glad his friends had managed to overcome that difficulty and find some solace in each other’s company. And he’d agree; not shifting was _unnatural_.


	3. First, They Must Catch You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat!Tony and Wolf!Bucky go hunting rabbits...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the-flightoficarus said: Okay but rereading the asshole cat tony and wolf Bucky makes me reallllllly want that rabbit chasing scene because IT WOULD BE SO CUTE AND I NEED IT AFTER BEING REMINDED OF WHAT YOU DID TO BOTH OF THEM! If you had the time, could you write that? Pretty please?
> 
> shi-toyu said:I hope I'm putting this in the right place... The prompt for your Also Prey fic! Would you consider writing the scene where Bucky and Tony go out hunting together and Tony chases the rabbits to Bucky? Because I'm just imagining Bucky getting distracted watching Tony's butt wiggle as he prepares to pounce and its ADORABLE! Also, anything involving more exasperation on Sam's part.
> 
> Now with ART from [Beir!](http://beir.tumblr.com/)

Tony parked the car just on the far side of the Great Swamp refuge.

A falcon circled overhead, then dove, nearly dive-bombing Bucky, who did a tuck-and-roll, coming up under the shelter of a tree. “Asshole,” he swore, brushing dirt off his pants.

The bird did another loop and landed on the split-rail fence, talons biting into the ancient wood, then shifted in a blur of feathers until Sam was sitting there, grinning that gap-toothed smile. “You know you looked like a dumbass with your head out the window the whole trip, right?”

Bucky restrained himself from snarling, the itch of shifting built at the base of his spine. “Not as dumb as you looked, eatin’ mid-shift.” That was playing dirty, and Bucky knew it, but they’d gotten an Assemble call when Sam’s falcon had a mouthful of pigeon. He’d shown up for the villain of the day with feathers still stuck to his shirt. And Clint had wandered around the Tower for the next three days singing _Poisoning Pigeons in the Park_.

Sam pulled out a camera from one of his myriad pockets in those hideous pants he liked to wear. “Thus, witness!” He held the camera up to his eye and took a photo. “Gonna catch y’all on film, catchin’ bunnies.”

Tony circled the car and came up on Bucky’s side. “Buzz off, bird-brain,” Tony said; the way his hips were moving, Bucky could just imagine his tail lashing from side to side. “Or I might forget what I’m hunting.”

Sam lowered his shades to give Tony a particularly scathing look. “Friends don’t eat friends,” Sam said.

Tony’s eyebrow went up. “Well, if they’re particularly _good friends_ \--” he started and Sam made a groaning, horrified sound.

“I don’t wanna know anything more about you and the Winter Smolder’s sex life.”

“So, go away,” Tony said, flapping his hands at Sam.

“No can do,” Sam said. “You two are going to be distracted. I’ll keep an aerial view, just to be on the safe side. No one needs more POW time.”

Bucky sighed. That was Steve’s idea. And he wasn’t sure that he blamed Steve; all of them had had experiences being captured or attacked while out on their own. But it wasn’t like Tony and Bucky weren’t going to watch out for each other.

And it put his _other_ plans, of rolling his boyfriend around on a grassy knoll somewhere, on hold.

Tony was already shedding a lot of his clothing -- every wyr could take some items with them when they shifted, but the smaller forms sometimes got bogged down in it. Bucky was personally amazed that Sam could shift into a flying form wearing full combat armor; and then saddened, because it meant Sam had a lot of practice with quick-shifting. Of course, hanging out with Steve “Captain” Rogers had a way of doing that to a person. Always had to have one eye open when you loved that little punk, and it wasn’t like Steve had relaxed any since taking a seventy year nap.

There was a simple blur and then the black cat was stropping around Bucky’s legs, twinning in between his calves and purring fit to beat the band.

“Awww,” Sam cooed, climbing down off the fence and holding out his index finger. Tony flattened his ears and hissed, going from cute-kitten to halloween demon in about three seconds. But Sam just kept his finger level and Bucky could feel the tension as Tony tried to resist, but eventually bounced over to Sam and touched the end of Sam’s outstretched hand with his nose. Tony allowed Sam to rub his ears and then threw himself into the dirt at Sam’s feet, rolling over to show off his belly.

“Don’t do it,” Bucky cautioned. “That’s a trap.”

“Tony’s not going to claw me up,” Sam said. Optimist.

Bucky shook his head. “It’s your skin, man.” He let the burning at the base of his spine spread, pulling himself up and in, shifting slow and easy. He always felt like changing forms was similar to waking up in the morning, a stretch and a yawn and the sense that there was a whole new day ahead of him. By the time he was done, he sat down on his haunches, panting.

Sam, who’d decided not to risk Tony’s temperament, was teasing the cat with a bit of long-grass, getting Tony to bat at it, despite his best intentions.

Bucky stayed sitting; in their wyr forms, they were both still human, still capable of reason, but everything was just a little more… intense. Tony always needed a moment to adjust, to prepare himself to be so close to such a large predator.

Finally, Tony stopped playing with Sam and strolled over, keeping his gaze averted until the last moment, when he stopped dead in front of Bucky and blinked a few times. Slow. Winked one eye, then the other.

Bucky nodded his huge head, then lowered his nose until he was eye level with Tony. It was so hard to resist the urge to go totally canine, sniffing and nipping at his boyfriend until they were rolling around, but Tony was too small for that. Also, Bucky really wanted to lick him, but the last time he’d given into _that_ urge, Tony had bristled with offense, dripping wet with canine saliva and wounded dignity.

Bucky got to his feet; Tony would lead him to a good blind spot and they’d go hunting.

Well, except that Sam was still being a dick. Bucky barely got a glimpse of something bright and flashing before a speck of light appeared against his quicksilver leg and Tony fucking _pounced_ on him, front legs wrapping around the limb, tail lashing furiously.

_Laser pointer? Really?_

Bucky lifted his muzzle and glared, wanting to snarl, but not wanting to frighten Tony, either.

Sam raised the camera with his free hand and snapped a few pictures before Tony realized that the evil red dot had vanished and sheepishly let go of Bucky’s leg.

Tony put on his air of I-meant-to-do-that and sauntered past Sam without looking at him. Bucky made to do the same, but when he got closer, he couldn’t resist his urges any longer and extended a long, very wet, tongue, and licked Sam from chin to temple, practically laughing in his face when Sam all but shoved his hand in Bucky’s mouth, trying to push him away.

“Ug, man, you’re gross,” Sam complained. “An’ you get to explain t’ Steve why you’re kissin’ me.”

Bucky treated Sam to a view of his retreating tail as he put his nose to the ground and followed the scent of Tony out into the fields.

He found the blind, because Tony had rolled around in the little hollow just on the leeward side of a hill, getting his scent _everywhere_. It would probably be a few minutes, at least, until he was chasing rabbits in Bucky’s direction, so Bucky took the opportunity to revel in Tony’s scent, to scrub his back in the grass and get himself nice and coated in it. Drenched in the smell of Tony. He wanted to raise his muzzle and howl with triumph.

Two rabbits darted across his path; Bucky waited until they were past to give chase, getting a noseful of their strictly animal status. Not that he thought Tony would flush something sentient in front of him, but it was always best to be sure. Sometimes Bucky’s own instincts got away from him when he started the chase.

He let his paws hit the ground, toenails digging into the soft soil. Bucky could run for days, just for the joy of running, the freedom of it. On the other paw, _lunch_.

It was over quickly; Bucky got to the rabbit before it could dive into the warren tunnels and with a quick snap of his jaw, caught it up, shook it.

He was laying down with his kill, ripping into it with relish, when Tony bounded out of the woods, stopping just outside Bucky’s lunging range, unwilling to tempt a wolf that had its dander up, so to speak.

Bucky wagged his tail a few times against the ground, thumping it welcomingly.

Much to his surprise, instead of coming over to partake of wild rabbit, Tony crouched low to the ground, golden eyes locked on… Bucky’s tail?

Bucky let his mouth loll open in a wolfy grin and shifted his tail again, turning his attention back to lunch as if he hadn’t noticed. Wag. Wag.

Tony crouched low, chin almost on his front paws. His tail lashed a few times.

 _Wag._ Bucky kept his muzzle pointed away, watching Tony from the corner of one eye.

And there went the butt; the tail swishing hard until Tony’s whole backside was swinging from side to side as he prepared to pounce. Twitch. Twitch.

Damn, that was so _cute_ , Bucky could hardly resist. He thumped his tail one last time and Tony gave in, bouncing across the grass and attacking Bucky’s tail, hind feet kicking at the plush fur when he landed. Bucky tolerated the little fluffy menace until Tony got a little too enthusiastic with the claws and Bucky whirled to nip playfully at Tony’s hindquarters. Tony immediately released Bucky’s tail, rubbed up under Bucky’s chin, purring up a storm.

Bucky nuzzled at his tiny boyfriend for a moment before nosing at the remains of the rabbit, pushing a bit of food at Tony. Tony, catlike in every way, sniffed it dubiously before deciding to honor Bucky’s kill by taking a bite.

The rabbit didn’t last long, and before long, Tony was grooming his face meticulously, licking at his front paw and scrubbing over his ears. Bucky whumped over on his side, letting his tail wag contentedly.

From that position, Bucky could watch the sky and saw a shadow against the sun, circling them. Sam, keeping watch.

Tony climbed up Bucky’s side and settled on his shoulder, front paws kneading biscuits in Bucky’s fur. Bucky tapped Tony with his nose, blinked a few times, and settled back into the grass.

Well fed, well loved, and looked after. Bucky let his eyes drift shut and slept.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title comes from Watership Down, which is actually a story about rabbits... 
> 
> "All the world will be your enemy, Prince of a Thousand enemies. And when they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must catch you..."
> 
> Further Note: This series continues [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12937944) that was part of the WinterIron Holiday Exchange...


End file.
